Count Down The Time
by Schizzar
Summary: Clint and Natasha have slowly put their lives back together after Coulson's death. Peter is acclimating to life with the Avengers. And then Coulson goes back and they all have to find their footing once more. Part of the Routinely Rejecting Happiness Series. Steve Rogers/Phil Coulson, with background Clint Barton/Peter Parker.
1. Chapter 1

**Finally the next part of the Routinely Rejecting Happiness series is here. I will be posting a non-censored version of this on my Ao3 account, so you'll have to go there if you want the smutty version of this story. For now though, I hope you enjoy! Reviews are loved. I don't own Marvel. **

"I got reassigned."

Peter looked up from the article he was reading. It was another article of a childhood 'friend' spilling all they knew about Peter Parker, the real Spider-man. Like the others before it, the facts were so far from the truth it was laughable.

"Dude, Clint, they're saying I was a bully in elementary school," Peter said, finally getting a good look at the archer.

The man's expression made the mirth in his own gaze die away. Clint looked terrified and Peter could count on one hand how often that had happened. "What happened? Who did you get reassigned to?"

"I got assigned to Agent Philip Coulson."

"What?" Peter asked, dropping the article on the couch as he got to his feet.

"Clint." Both men froze when Natasha appeared at the entryway to the room. Her expression revealed nothing but Peter was pretty sure she was a heartbeat away from flying into a rage. "Who were you reassigned to?"

Clint turned away from Peter to face Natasha head on. "Nat. You know they always give us the same handler. I've got whoever you have."

"Oh. I'm going to go talk to Fury." She spun on her heel, vanishing the way she had come.

Clint turned back towards Peter, tossing the file in his hand to the floor. "Well she can yell at Fury all she wants. He's not telling us a damn thing until he's good and ready."

Peter grabbed the archer's arm, tugging him towards the couch and forcing him to sit down. Then he made his way to Tony's bar to find something to numb Clint's brain. By the time he returned, Clint was starting to transition from stunned to really angry.

"Drink this. If you need a punching bag, Steve is probably open for a spar," Peter said.

Clint downed the drink in one swallow. "You don't need to treat me like I'm going to break. I'm fine."

"Well that's the biggest bag of crap I've ever heard," Peter said flatly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Clint spread his arms. "Doubtful. Honestly, I want to punch Fury in the face."

"I could restrain him if that'd help," Peter said. "Think Nat would appreciate that?"

"Fucking hell Peter, this isn't a joke," Clint said, getting to his feet and tossing the glass across the room. "Coulson's apparently alive and Fury just let us...mourn and grieve and try and get over him."

Peter didn't get a chance to say anything because the elevator doors slid open and Steve walked in, eyebrows popping up when he saw the shattered glass across the floor.

"Fury's called a meeting. We'll be taking the quinjets," Steve said. "Natasha already took one after she uh, got off the video thing with him." He turned back towards the elevator. "We leave in five."

Peter approached the archer once Steve was out of sight. It was not overly surprising when Clint jerked away, striding towards the elevator without a word.

-.-

Peter had never met Coulson before. He was long dead before SHIELD started harassing him to join the Avengers initiative. From what Clint and Tony had told him though, the man was efficient, not taking anyone's crap or sparing anyone's emotions. He did what needed to be done and damn the consequences. Sure, Clint had mentioned the man's softer side, but the man standing beside Fury was like steel, gaze twitching over each of them for two seconds before staring straight ahead once more.

"Fury, you son of a bitch," Clint said.

The team sat around the usual table in their briefing room, but it looked as though Natasha and Clint were about to leap across the table and claw Fury's eye out. Tony was in full out pouting child mode, arms crossed over his chest and gaze pointedly aimed at a wall. Steve's expression was unreadable. Banner hadn't been allowed on the helicarrier.

"You can sign my resignation papers now," Natasha said.

Nobody moved as she got to her feet, heels clicking on the floor. She held out the papers to Coulson, standing directly in front of him as her gaze locked with his. "I've done a lot for SHIELD and for you, and this is how you repay me. Well, I'm done."

Phil's hands slowly rose, fingers wrapping around the papers.

"Do not. Do this. Agent Romanoff," Fury said. "If you leave, we will hunt you down."

"I wonder how many agents you'll lose before you stop trying. Clint may have sold his soul to you, but I never did." Finally, her gaze turned to Fury. "You know I won't tell anyone the secrets I know. You know I would have followed every order. But this is too far.

She began to leave the room, pausing beside Clint. Her lips touched his cheek, and then she was headed for the door, the harsh click of her heels on the tile echoing through the room making a muscle in Clint's jaw twitch. As her hand touched the door handle, Coulson finally spoke.

"Natasha. You should let us explain."

Clint ignored his own anger at the words and kept his gaze fixed on Natasha. He doubted anyone but Coulson could see what he did. The tensing of her right shoulder from the way her hand gripped the door handle a little bit tighter, the hesitation. Then she jerked the door open.

"You had _months_ to explain. I'm done listening."

The door slammed shut, and for a tense moment, no one spoke. Peter's hand slid to squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

"So how many other secrets are you hiding, Fury? Answer honestly now, unless you want your systems hacked again," Tony said.

"Stark, I do not owe you anything," Fury started.

"You already lost one of us today. Are you willing to risk the rest?" Tony asked.

"Let him explain," Clint broke in. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Coulson. "But you better have a damned good excuse."  
"We needed something to unite the team," Fury said. "It wasn't planned, but after what happened, we-"

"Dammit, Fury, I don't give a damn what you have to say! I want to hear it from Coulson," Clint shouted.

"Fury is right. You needed something to unite all of you," Coulson said. "I thought my death would be a good motivator, though for awhile, as I understood it, I almost _did_ die."

"But why wait to tell us until now? What was the point?" Peter asked. When Clint's eyes flickered over to him, Peter kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the table.

"Why let all of them think that for so long?" Peter looked up, looking at both of the other men. "I don't know you, Agent Coulson. Honestly, if this didn't affect the people _I_ care about so much, I'd probably just write you both off as annoying idiots with jerk-like tendencies. But you can't just play with people's emotions for that long. You don't just mess around with the grieving process. It's heartless, and psychopathic. Of course, those are words I already applied to SHIELD, but thanks for proving me right. _Maybe_ you could make an argument for letting Tony and Steve think he was dead, but after? What possible reason could you have to keep up the lie?"

"I don't expect you to understand the complexities of the matter-" Fury began.

"Actually, Fury, I don't think he was asking you," Steve said. "Agent Coulson?"  
"While I regret the way these events have unfolded, I did as I was ordered and stayed in SHIELD headquarters until I was entirely healed," Coulson said.

"Bullshit. You don't mess with people's heads because Director Dickbag told you to, especially not the people you care about," Clint said, glowering. "You know that Coulson. We talked about that."

"Orders are orders. And I agreed with his reasoning," Coulson said. "Because we didn't know if I would pull through until last week. In fact, I should probably be in bed, getting more rest."

"Agent Coulson was in a coma for two months, and when he came out of it, we were able to get his permission to preform a dangerous surgery on his heart. It had healed, but he would be incapable of returning to work. With the surgery, we would replace his heart with some experimental tech. It was successful. He'll be back to work by the end of the month but he almost died, and we did not want to give you false hope until we knew he would survive," Fury said.

"I am going to show an amazing amount of restraint and not say the first thing that comes to mind and request that we all leave and think this over," Tony said, getting to his feet. "Under the condition that Coulson is immediately moved to Stark Tower and put under our medical care."

"I second that," Clint said.

"Stark, you cannot _make_ a man live with you," Fury said.

"I am not opposed to this request. In fact, I think, sir, I would prefer to live there during my recovery," Coulson said, stepping forward a bit. "I will be able to do my job better if the agent I am to be the handler of is nearby."

"If you're still my handler," Clint said lowly.

"Well, until you decide then," Coulson said.

"Fine, Agent Coulson may chose where he lives, as long as he continues to have a daily check up with our doctors." Fury looked over at Coulson, and then Tony. "Is this satisfactory?"

"Yes, sir," Coulson said.

"Fantastic. Steve will help you pack, so if you pass out, someone can carry you," Tony said.

"Thank you for the consideration," Coulson's tone was dry, and slightly annoyed.

"You're welcome, Agent."

-.-

Natasha yanked the door of her locker open, staring at the contents inside with a critical eye. After so many years working with SHIELD, she had allowed herself to attach a small amount of sentimental value to where she stored a few of her personal belongings. Absolutely stupid of her in hindsight.

She took down the one picture she had taped to the inside of the door, staring down at it for a moment. Clint had taken it during one of their bonding nights. Phil was tossing popcorn to his left where Natasha sat. It was an unflattering photo of her attempting to catch the popcorn in her mouth. She didn't remember Clint taking it, just remembered it materializing in her locker and not having the heart to take it down.

She tucked it into her pocket with more care than she wanted to think about. There were a few more things taped to the inside door of the locker. The psych evaluation she finally passed to be accepted into SHIELD, the first notice that Clint was her partner, and the first notice that Coulson was her handler. She shoved those in her pocket as well.

"Moving on out, huh?"

Natasha jerked around, catching Deadpool's jaw with her fist, but he knocked her back before holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "So, I shouldn't have taken you by surprise. My bad. But am I right?"  
Natasha kicked the locker shut after pulling her bag of weapons out. "I suppose you are. Why are you here?"

"Curiosity. We're quite interested in what you plan to do next," Wade said.

"How did you even know?" She brushed past him, glancing at the cameras as she passed through the door.

"Well, I'm not a big fan of this Coulson guy. None of us are really," Wade said. He slung an arm around Natasha's shoulders, but when she pulled away, he let her go. "Your rejection hurts. Right here." He clutched as his heart before turning to face her, walking backwards.

"So why do you hate Coulson?" she asked. "Have you even met the guy?"

"Nope!" Wade shrugged. "But I take care of Birdy, and that guy has messed with him too much. He should've stayed dead."

"You know if you try and kill him, I'll have to stop you," Natasha said.

"Such loyalty to a man that constantly betrays you. And people call me crazy. Yes, true, but no one really asked you white box, now let me talk to the pretty lady. SHIELD security will be interrupting us soon," Wade said. Natasha didn't bat an eye as she continued to walk. "So, if you're unaffiliated now, care to join me on a job?"  
"I'm not a mercenary, I'm an assassin. I will _not_ sink to your level Wade," Natasha said. She darted around him to head up the stairs. "Besides, I don't _have _a plan yet, so I'm not going to agree to anything."  
"You've always been like me, Miss Romanov. I may admire Birdy, but you...you're just like me. Tied to no nation, no person. You're a loner, not even the boxes to keep you company. If you change your mind, ask Birdy for my number."  
Natasha whirled around, keen on giving the mercenary a piece of her mind, but he was already gone. A frustrated sight blew past her lips. What he said bothered her, but before she could dwell further, her phone beeped. She pulled it out of her pocket, staring down at the text it had received from Stark. That was new. Last time he text her, she had proceeded to steal his phone no matter how many times he replaced it, until he swore to never text her again.

_You can stay at the tower until you figure out what you're going to do. And you won't even owe me anything._

Natasha ignored the smile that twisted at her lips.

-.-

"It's good to have you back, sir. Despite what we all said in there." Steve handed Coulson the spare helmet for his motorcycle before unclipping his own from the seat. They were in the parking garage for SHIELD operatives, the others already long gone, headed back to the tower.

The agent stared at him for a moment. "We won't be able to carry my things back on a motorcycle."  
Steve glanced at him. "Tony said he'll send a car to your place when he gets back to the tower to come pick it all up." He got onto the motorcycle and patted the space behind him. "I promise I won't let you fall, sir."

"That was never my concern."

Steve couldn't help but smile at the warmth in the man's tone, and if he were to guess, relief. He didn't really need a helmet for himself, but he often wore one just to stop paparazzi from recognizing him. The ride over was silent, outside Coulson telling him his address, neither willing to shout over the wind and New York City traffic. It was weird having a man he had mourned for sitting behind him as they drove through the streets. Part of him was still angry with Director Fury, but his happiness that there was another familiar face was greater.

Coulson lived in a modest apartment, but it was older, and didn't have an elevator.

"What floor are you on?" Steve asked.

"Only the second, thankfully," Coulson said with a strained smile. "I apologize for the slow pace I'll be taking."

"Agent Coulson, you're alive. I frankly do not care if that means you have to walk a bit slower due to the dangerous surgery that's keeping you that way," Steve said.

Coulson's gaze flickered away, and then he began to head up the stairs. "Thank you Steve. You may call me Phil by the way. Unless we're at work of course."

"I can do that, thanks," Steve said with a small smile.

At the landing, halfway up the flight of stairs, Phil paused and leaned against the wall, hand rubbing absently over his heart. It made a lance of worry stab through him, and Steve moved to stand beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Phil said. "Just a bit of a strain."

"I could carry you," Steve said.

"Please, spare me the humiliation," Phil said with a small laugh. "I can make the last few steps."

"You don't have to push yourself just to impress me," Steve said. He grabbed Phil's arm and looped it over his shoulder when Phil began walking again. "I'll just help. You can still do most of the work."

"Thank you," Phil said.

Steve kept a firm grip on him until they reached Phil's door and stood back as the man unlocked and opened it. "Is this the first time you've been back here?"

"Yes," Phil said. He paused and then opened the door completely. "Welcome, and I suppose make yourself at home."

Steve walked past him and then held the door open for Phil to shuffle through. There was a small hallway that branched off, one way leading towards what Steve assumed was the bedroom and bathroom, the other to the living room and kitchen.

"So where shall we start?" Steve asked.

"The bedroom is where most of my belongings are. I do not keep much of anything," Phil said. "There should be some bags in the kitchen for us to put clothes in."

"Alright. You can head on to the bedroom if you want. I'll be there in a minute."

Steve was pretty surprised at how modestly Phil seemed to live, though he supposed it made sense for an agent of his caliber, and it was nice to know there was someone else like him. Someone who got paid a lot but didn't see the sense in needlessly spending it on things they didn't need. He found a few paper bags and carried them to the bedroom where Phil was sitting on the bed, hand over his heart once more.

"You're gonna make me worried if you keep pushing yourself too hard," Steve said.

"Thank you for the concern, but the doctors wouldn't have let me out if I was on the edge of death," Phil said. "But if you don't mind, I think I'll remain seated."

"Not a problem." Steve headed over to the closet, and opened it up to see four suits, seven shirts and six pairs of pants. "So I guess all of this can be packed away?"

"It can, yes. Tell me something though, if you can. Has Clint...has Clint moved on?"

Steve froze as he grabbed the first hanger. "You mean...did he get another relationship?"

"Yes, that's what I mean." Phil's voice was tight.

"He's with Peter now," Steve said, ducking his head as he folded the first shirt and laid it in one of the bags. "He had a rough month after we thought you died and when Peter joined he helped put Clint back together. He's preforming better than he was after Loki's attack. I'm...sorry."

"No, no, I always knew this was a...possibility. When you go off the radar for a long time, people's lives tend to move on and I could never ask for anything else," Phil said. "But it still hurts."

"Yeah, the world has a tendency to move on without you," Steve said with a frown.

"Oh. Of course you would know that better than me. Apologies for my inconsiderate remarks," Phil said.

"They're not inconsiderate," Steve said, looking over at him. "Not if that's how you feel. I...appreciate that you feel as though you can talk to me. It's an honor really."

Phil laughed. "I can't say I've ever had someone say it's an honor to know what I'm feeling, so thank you."

"Well the way I see it, it's hard for all us to adjust to the fact that you're alive and you and Fury hid it from us all, but it's also hard for you to adjust to being...well alive again," Steve said. "With some weird piece of technology in your chest."

"I suppose that's true," Phil said. "Thank you for understanding."

"We're all a team," Steve said. "Or at least we're getting there. Depends on what Stark and the others decide to do."

"You think they will try and break off from SHIELD?" Phil asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Honestly, I don't know. I think we all just need to figure out what we're feeling about all of this," Steve said with a small shrug. "We all do care about you though. I think we're all just feeling too betrayed right now to think rationally."

"You seem to be doing a good job," Phil said with a small smile.

"I'm good at compartmentalizing. At least that's what the SHIELD psychologist tells me," Steve said. "Though I don't think he meant it as a good thing."

His words coaxed another laugh out of Phil, which warmed Steve's chest. "No, I don't think it's supposed to, but we might as well use it to our advantage."

Steve nodded and then folded another shirt to place in the bag. "We'll figure it out. I think...and don't take this the wrong way, but I think you have a lot to apologize for still, and Fury has even more."

"I just hope I can repair the damage."

Steve gave him a reassuring smile. "If anyone can, it's definitely you."


	2. Chapter 2

**I will be posting a non-censored version of this on my Ao3 account, so you'll have to go there if you want the smutty version of this story. Reviews are loved. I don't own Marvel. **

"Clint-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Clint said, flopping down on their shared bed back at the tower.

"You might not want to but you should," Peter said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Why aren't you even slightly worried about the fact that my old boyfriend is back from the dead?" Clint asked. He flipped onto his back, his gaze unreadable when he looked at Peter.

"Should I be? I mean, I'm pissed at what happened, and I'm a bit worried about what it's going to do to you," Peter said. "What else is there to be worried about?"

"Like what if he still loves me? Isn't that a bit of a problem?" Clint asked as he sat up.

"No. Because you love me."

"I love him too though and I don't know what to do because this is all just so fucked!"

Peter moved across the bed to grab his hands. "Slow down, Clint. You realize that's all fine, right? What you're feeling. It makes sense and I get it. Even if you two end up getting back together, I'd understand."

"And you can say that with a straight face?" Clint shook his head, with a smile of disbelief.

"Look, you were right in saying that all this is messed up. It is. And it's not up to me to decide who you chose. You and Phil need to work out where you stand," Peter said.

"Thanks...I'm not quite ready to talk to him. Mostly I still want to punch him but...I don't want to take him back. I know that. I just have to wait until my feelings for him fade," Clint said.

Peter sucked in a deep breath. "Okay good because I would be really unhappy if I had to let you go. Seriously."

"Then what was all that shit?" Clint asked, socking Peter in the shoulder with a smile toying on his lips.

"I was hoping to make you feel less guilty if you were planning on breaking it off with me," Peter said, looking down at his hands.

"You're an idiot," Clint said. "Just because I love him doesn't mean I want to throw away what we have. You mean too much to me for that. I'm just freaking out because I love two people and I don't want to make you uncomfortable."  
"So what you're saying is we are both way too well intentioned," Peter said, raising a single eyebrow.

"Apparently. That has to be a good sign for our relationship, right?" Clint asked with a smirk. He tugged Peter forward and stole a quick kiss.

"Wait so does this mean-" Peter gave a soft moan when Clint sucked on his lower lip. "-You're feeling better?"

"Enough that I want you to make me forget all about this via mutual blow jobs," Clint murmured.

"Okay, yeah that can be arranged."

-.-

Peter got into the lift, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it somewhat neat. Clint had passed out after Peter had finished blowing him, a process he had purposely drawn out as long as possible to make Clint stop thinking, which left Peter hungry and alone. Not that he really minded. Clint needed as much rest as possible. Peter supposed he got off lucky in comparison to the rest of the team given that he hadn't really known Coulson.

The lift door opened, revealing Steve and Coulson about to get on. Steve held a stack of boxes and after a tense, awkward moment, he and Peter switched places.

"I'll just put these away. I'm sure Peter can show you around and get you something to eat," Steve said.

"Yeah sure," Peter said, giving Coulson what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"Thank you," Steve said.

As the doors closed, Peter was suddenly _very _aware that he wore only gym shorts and that an agent of Coulson's caliber probably knew exactly what he'd just finished doing. He gave another awkward smile, inwardly cursed his inability to not look like an idiot when socializing, and then headed for the fridge.

"So is there anything in particular you want? I mean Tony's pretty much got everything," Peter said.

Coulson sat down on one of the barstools at the counter. "Whatever you planned is fine. How's Clint?"

"Clint's fine," Peter said, pulling out lunchmeat and cheese, and then bread from one of the cabinets. "I mean, as fine as you'd expect."

"Good. Good. Any word from Natasha?"  
"No and even if there was I wouldn't tell you and _Jesus_ sorry. I'm having trouble thinking before speaking."

"No, it's fine. Refreshing. Most of your teammates aren't very good at speaking bluntly. Even Stark has a way of saying absolutely nothing despite everything he says," Coulson said. "I never meant to hurt them."

"Yeah, well you did, so you should probably do something to make up for it," Peter said.

"And you're okay with that? With me spending time with Clint and winning back his good favor?"

"Of course I am. You were one of the most important people in his life," Peter said, turning to face him. "But are you planning on trying to take him back? I just want to know up front."

Coulson's steely gaze softened, which was almost unsettling to see. "No. I don't. I can't ask that of him, not when he finally seems to have found some happiness."

"Good. Then like I said, you two really need to talk so you're both on the same page." Peter turned back to put the finishing touches on their sandwiches.

"Is he actually interested in talking to me?" Coulson asked.

"Well yeah," Peter said, setting a plate in front of him. "He's just super stubborn as I'm sure you know."  
Coulson's lips twisted up into a smirk. "Yes. Yes he is. I'll talk to him when he's ready."

"Well now that that's out of the way, I have a more important question to ask," Peter said, leaning across the counter. "Is it possible for me to get the specs on your now fake heart?"

"Illegally, yes," Coulson said. "It is not SHIELD's biggest secret, but it is still in fact a secret. But Stark probably hacked into our systems already so it's probably only a matter of time before you have them for yourself."

"That is a good point," Peter said. "You don't seem too pissed about that."

"I have accepted Stark is an unruly child who doesn't mean any real harm. In fact, his presence helps limit corruption," Coulson said. "Did Clint ever tell you how we ended up together?"

"No. He doesn't talk about you that much," Peter said.

"Hmm. Years ago, I ordered Clint to go on a suicide mission. We both knew it would result in his death, but I ordered it anyways because the higher ups told me to. We found out later of course that those higher ups were corrupt. If we had someone like Stark, perhaps we would've noticed sooner," Coulson said.

"And how exactly did that lead to you getting together?" Peter asked. "I mean I get you think Tony is overall a good asset but how does ordering Clint on a suicide mission end in you two getting together?"

"Well, after everything settled, I realized he was more important than blindly following orders," Coulson said.

"You're making me feel like an inadequate boyfriend," Peter said, tone joking.

Coulson's expression remained serious. "You are far from it. From what I've seen, Clint is in better shape than I would've anticipated. You found him after his world was turned upside down and kept him going. That makes you quite far from inadequate."

Peter was surprised at how warm the words made his chest feel. "Thanks. The vote of confidence helps."

"But just so we're clear. If you hurt him I will taze you and-"

"Watch Supernanny while I drool on the floor?"

Coulson smiled. "Precisely."

-.-

Steve was just finishing putting away the remainder of Phil's clothing when the man returned to his flat. The agent sat down at his desk chair and watched Steve pack the empty boxes on top of each other.

"Are you doing okay?" Steve asked. "You know health wise?"

"Little worse for wear but not much pain, no," Phil said. "Thank you for doing all the hard work."

"It's the least I could do," Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable at the way Phil's praise made his stomach flip.

"So if you can spare the time, why don't you catch me up on what the Avengers have been doing in my absence?" Phil asked.

"Surely Fury's already debriefed you," Steve said. He looked around for a spare chair and, finding none, sat instead on the edge of Phil's desk.

"Well yes but those reports don't tell me much about how you work as a team. Last I saw, you weren't much of one," Phil said.

Steve flushed. "Not one of my proudest moments, no. Your death united us. I think in a way it still is. Now, I suppose with everything that's happened these past few months, we're actually starting to like each other."

"That's reassuring, even if my...rebirth has seemed to cause your unity to splinter." There was an odd look in Phil's eyes, something close to grief that made a pang of worry make itself known in Steve's chest.

"I wouldn't worry too much about Miss Romanoff, sir," Steve said. "She's angry, but I don't think she'll abandon you or Clint. I think she's quite brave, really."

Phil folded his arms across his chest. "What makes you say that?"

"She's actually cutting ties with the organization that's betrayed her, and if I understand it right, she's done the same before, and yet I find myself unable to follow her example," Steve said. "I disagree with most everything SHIELD does after all."

"Really?" Phil seemed genuinely surprised by the admission.

"I'm a soldier," Steve said with a shrug. "Not an agent. I don't have much patience for their games."

"I don't think much of anyone has patience for it really," Phil said. "Will you defect?"

Steve offered a smile. "Is this off the record?"

"I work for SHIELD. Nothing is off the record," Phil said with a somewhat sad smile in return.

"I figured. It's alright though. The honest answer is still the same. I don't know. SHIELD doesn't give me much of a reason to stay."

"I wish I could say that can't be true but I happen to agree," Phil said. "I hope for all our sakes, some sort of truce can be found."

"Me too. I enjoy saving people. I would rather not have SHIELD attempt to stop me or brand me a traitor," Steve said. "Perhaps it was not wise of them to back stab the only two people who felt any sort of loyalty to them."

"You're preaching to the choir."

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry for getting carried away. You probably don't enjoy hearing me talk about how much I dislike the people you work for."

"I don't mind. Your anger is understandable," Phil said. "What you and the others decide to do isn't something I should have any say in."

"For what it's worth, we all like you and think you're a good person," Steve said with a smile.

"That does help. Thank you Steve."

Steve sighed and got to his feet. "Enough of this sort of talk. We could play cards if you like. I want to do what I can to help you settle in."

"I would love to."

-.-

"Clint, wake up. We need to talk."

Clint gave a muffled groan when Natasha hit the back of his head with a pillow. He could feel her sitting on his calves, and she remained perched there even when he twisted to lay on his back.

"'t time izzit?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"7:00 PM. Everyone is watching Star Wars in the common area," Natasha said. "Made it easier to sneak in."

"What's up?" He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her up onto his lap instead.

"Wade came and talked to me," she said while leaning into him, forehead against his collarbone. "He wants me to go on a job."

"Are you insane?" Clint demanded, jolting back into full awareness.

Natasha pulled back to look him in the eyes. "No. I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with my life."

"And being partners with a psycho merc is one of those career options?"

"I was thinking more solo work to be honest. This is just a test run," Natasha said. "And I'll keep in touch with you the whole time. Perks of working on your own."

"I..." Clint pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I just don't really trust him. Even after everything he's done for us I just can't trust him with anything."

"It'll be fine," she said. "And I have to do this. Maybe out there, really on my own with no one able to control me, I can actually figure out what I stand for."

"You'll come back though, right? No matter what?" Clint hated how much of a child he sounded like, but he couldn't help it. Natasha was his rock, and he was hers, and now they would have to figure themselves out without each other's help.

"Of course," Natasha said, her hands framing his. "But this is something I have to do for myself."

"What do you want me to tell the others?" Clint asked.

"Nothing. If they ask, I was never here," she said. "Of course Stark will know better but he can keep a secret better than most spies."

"I'm going to miss you," Clint said.

"And I you." She kissed him hard then, deep and invasive, like it was the last kiss they'd ever share. Her fingers trailed over his jaw as she pulled away, backing up towards the door. "Go. Watch the movie. Sort things out with Phil if you can."

"Should I give him your love?"

Her expression was unreadable. "No. Goodbye Clint."

The door closed with a soft click, an anti-climactic sound that didn't match the feeling of a gaping hole in his chest. Sure, they had separate missions all the time, but there was something more final this time despite her promise to return. It took him awhile to get the panic in his chest tamed enough to pull himself out of bed and dress in semi-decent clothes.

When he got downstairs, only Peter looked at him before glancing at the seat beside him on the loveseat. Clint sprawled across his lap, and Peter began to run his fingers through Clint's hair, the action soothing. Coulson was sandwiched between Tony and Steve on the main couch, looking surprisingly not tense given that he was sitting next to his hero. Bruce sat on the floor between Tony's legs, eyes closed from Tony's thorough scalp massage. Clint figured the man had seen Star Wars too many times to count so it wasn't like he was missing much.

Somewhere during Princess Leia's rescue, Coulson drifted off too sleep, head slumping against Steve's shoulder. The sight helped warm some of the chill Natasha's absence had left behind. He loved Coulson, loved him as intensely and deeply as he loved Natasha, but it wasn't the same, not anymore. His death had dampened the fire, tempered it into something else. The remaining shock certainly didn't help either. It would help though, if Coulson moved on and found someone else would treat him the way Peter treated Clint.

Peter's hand drifted down to grab the back of his neck, the small pinpricks of his stick powers engaging. Clint loosened almost on reflex and he could feel Peter's smile when he leaned down to kiss his temple. The neck trick was something they discovered when Peter was giving him a massage after a particularly rough battle, and Clint approved whole-heartedly of Peter's use of it.

"So Captain? What's the verdict?" Tony asked as the credits began to roll.

"It was a bit unrealistic," Steve said.

Peter snorted.

"But good! I liked it. How many more are there?"

"Two," Tony said. "I don't care if Bruce likes them, the prequels never existed."

"Well this has been enjoyable. I'm going to get something to eat," Clint said, rolling off Peter and getting to his feet. "Think you can handle getting Phil back to bed?"

Steve flushed bright red and Clint smirked, taking it as a yes. As he and Peter started to leave, Tony grabbed Clint's arm, a concerned expression on his face.

"Has Natasha talked to you?"

"No. Haven't seen her since the meeting," Clint said.

Tony seemed a bit confused but released him anyways. Clint wanted to tell them, but he wouldn't dare. Natasha had been right, saying she needed to figure things out for herself, and he didn't want to jeopardize her ability to do that.

"So I talked to Coulson earlier today," Peter said when they reached the elevator.

"Yeah? How'd that go?" They stepped into the lift and Clint couldn't help but smirk at him. "Did you battle it out for my affection?"

"Yeah, no," Peter said. "But I don't think he and I are gonna have much of a problem with each other. We're on the same page. I think it's just down to you two sorting things out."

"Still not ready," Clint said when the lift doors opened. "Hey you think Aunt May would make me a late dinner if I asked nicely?"  
Peter rolled his eyes as he got out of the elevator. "Probably. Just be nice. I'll be here when you get back."

The doors closed and Clint hit the button for the floor Aunt May's floor was on. She had made a point of involving herself in the Avenger's lives. Most every Sunday she made them join her for a big meal and didn't mind cooking for them as long as they showed up before ten.

"Aunt May?" He knocked on her door.

It opened barely a heartbeat later. "Well you took your sweet time to come see me. Come in, come in."

"I wasn't aware that I was expected today," Clint said as he stepped inside.

"Peter mentioned today was a bit rough when he swung by this afternoon," Aunt May said. "So I got around the things to make you some of that chicken alfredo you like so much. I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up."

"You're really sweet Aunt May," Clint said. He took a seat at the kitchen table.

"So what happened then? Peter wasn't very forthcoming," she said as she set the water on the stove to boil.

"My old boyfriend came back from the dead," Clint said. "Kinda throwing me for a loop given that they hid it for so long."

"That's just nonsense," Aunt May said, fixing him with a hard stare. "Someone you love miraculously survives when you thought they died, you don't waste time being angry about the circumstances. You just be damn thankful and appreciate the time you have together, though if you leave Peter I won't cook you anymore meals."

"That is definitely not something I'm going to do," Clint said. "Especially if I'd miss out on your cooking." He shook his head a bit frowning. "I just don't understand why they had to hide it for so long."

"It's the government, they keep secrets," Aunt May said.

"Yeah well I went through the grieving process and now I feel like I...not that I have to start over again but like it's all wrong," Clint said.

"It'll settle. These things always do, if Peter's past experiences are anything to go by," Aunt May said as she reached across the table to pat his hand. "But avoiding each other and not talking it out will only make it worse. I know how you all are with your _words_, but I am sure this is for the better. Things happen for a reason, I think."

"We're lucky to have you, Aunt May," Clint said as the woman got to her feet and headed back over to the stove.

"I don't know how you'd survive without me."


	3. Chapter 3

**As always, un-censored version when it gets to that will be posted on my Ao3 account instead of here. I use the same username so it's easy to find me. This is the last time this story will be updated until I finish my Dean Winchester/Owen Harper, which will finished by October 8th. This story will be complete by the end of October, and I'm expecting 2-3 more chapters. Reviews as always, are loved. I don't own Avengers or Marvel or any of that. **

It was a week before Clint had enough downtime to actually talk to Coulson on his own. Aliens apparently didn't care that Clint had a personal life and didn't mind screwing him over while attempting world domination. So naturally, instead of meeting with Coulson on his terms, they ran into each other while searching for a midnight snack.

"I see you have grown out of unhealthy cereal," Coulson said.

"And I see you still think plain bread is a viable option for a snack," Clint said.

They sat across from each other on barstools at the island counter. Clint's meal was mostly a chocolaty mess in his bowl, and he ate a few more spoonfuls in hopes that it would make him feel less nervous. It didn't.

"I watched the newsfeed of your fight," Coulson said. "You and Peter work well together. Maybe even better than you and 'Tasha."

"Don't." Clint's hand tightened on his spoon and he refused to look up at Coulson. "You don't get to call her that anymore."

"I'm sorry. But I can't apologize forever."

"I'm sorry too. This whole situation has me tense," Clint said.

"Perhaps it's too soon for us to try and talk."

"No, no, we need to," Clint said. He pushed his food away and looked up at Coulson. "Let's just sort this out and then you can go back to being my handler."

"That's surprisingly rational of you," Coulson said, a slight teasing smile on his lips.

"Just...listen okay? I love you Coulson. I never stopped. You're important to me. Your betrayal, Fury's betrayal...I expected it at some level but it still hurts. And Peter is...amazing and perfect and he put me back together. He's loyal to me before anyone else, and I'm the same with him. You and I weren't, not really. We were doomed to fail, really, and while I'm sure there's someone out there you'll love more than your job, that person isn't me. And that's okay." Clint shrugged, giving a short sigh. "I guess that's all I have to say."

Coulson's expression was unreadable. "You're right. I thought I changed but you've made it quite clear I haven't. I won't apologize for doing my job, not anymore."

"Oh come on. That whole speech was not me saying you're a robot and I hate you. I already said I still loved you, and I know for sure you're not a robot," Clint said. "I'm saying it's not good for you to pretend otherwise. Just because we didn't work doesn't mean you can't make it work with someone else."

"Clint, my job comes first."

"And what will you do when you're alone?"  
Clint hated how vulnerable he sounded in that moment, but Coulson almost flinched at the words. His mask melted away, exposing the hurt man beneath it all. It was like a punch to the gut for Clint to see how much his words had hurt the other.

"My choice united you. I didn't let Fury tell you when I came out of my coma because I didn't know if I'd survive the surgery. I didn't want to give you hope and rip it away again. I didn't do this _just_ for the job," Coulson said.

"You can't make choices like that on your own. Coulson, I don't even really care about the specific incident. It's a trend with you," Clint said. "You think you know what's best for everyone, but you don't. If you keep pushing people away, you'll end up alone no matter how much we love you."

Coulson looked down. "You're right. I would apologize but that might be a bit redundant."

"There's a way to balance your job and personal life. You just have to find it and not make everyone's choices for them. Look. You've got my loyalty. I'm not leaving. But Tony, Steve, _Bruce? _You can't pull this shit again."

"This has been...enlightening." Coulson shifted awkwardly, unsure of his movements.

Clint sighed and moved around the counter to pull Coulson into a tight hug. It was odd, holding him close like they used to during their most vulnerable moments, but Coulson relaxed which had to mean he was doing something right.

"I know I've been harsh and angry and I know it hurts and I'm sorry but you needed to hear it," Clint said quietly. "We didn't take you back just to yell at you. We took you back to help. You need rest, and when you're resting you have time to reflect. At least that's what you always told me."

"The mighty have fallen," Coulson said with a bitter tinged laugh.

"Just because you fell doesn't mean you're hopeless. But you should get some rest. Emotional talks in the middle of the night can't be helping your new heart."

"Probably not. Thank you Clint."

"It's what I'm here for."

-.-

Coulson woke up feeling like the world had shifted beneath his feet and everything he had held as an inherent truth was actually a lie. For the first time in his life, he didn't want to get out of bed. For a solid hour, he stared up at his ceiling, mind raking over what Clint had said over and over again.

It was nice to know they were on the same page in regards to their former relationship. That didn't mean Clint meant any less to them. He felt Natasha's loss like an open wound over his heart, and the thought of losing Clint made him feel like he was on the verge of a panic attack. It only made the guilt worse. What he was feeling could only be a fraction of what Clint and Natasha had gone through.

He supposed it was good thing he was on bed rest because he couldn't imagine being productive the way he felt. After a while, he convinced himself to head into the shower. The advantage to living with an AI was JARVIS seemed to have read his mind and drawn a bath instead. The shower looked unforgiving in comparison.

"Thanks JARVIS."  
"You seemed tense, sir. I figured a bath would be helpful."

Coulson soaked a good ten minutes before grabbing the soap. He lingered over the rough scar by his heart, a stark contrast to the precise neater ones from the surgery on either side of it. The area still ached, and his heartbeat was mechanical; steady. Unnaturally so.

"Sir, Captain Rogers has requested your presence in the kitchen at your leisure," JARVIS said.

"Noted."

Coulson pulled himself out of the water and dried off before slipping into one of the few pair of jeans he owned and a simple t-shirt. He did his best to compose himself and erase the anxiety from his expression before going to meet Steve. The soldier was just finishing washing the dishes from last night's dinner when Coulson stepped out of the elevator.

Steve turned and gave him a bright smile. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"  
Steve was so earnest in his question, Coulson was struck by the urge to be honest and tell him just how thrown off he was by Clint's harsh words and Natasha's departure. All that came out though was,

"Fine. I'm fine."

Steve's smile dampened a bit, and Coulson knew the other knew he was lying. Just another thing for him to feel guilty about.

"I suppose I hoped you'd be honest with me," Steve said. "But I get why maybe you're hesitant."

"I'm sorry, Steve. I don't open up much. To anyone. It's not your fault."

"Don't apologize," Steve said, stepping towards him. "You shouldn't feel bad about that sort of thing. Don't worry about it. I actually wanted to ask if you felt like going out. Not like a date. Just out. It can be a date if you want, but that's a bit forward of me. Can I maybe start over?"

Coulson blinked at him, trying to register the fact that his childhood hero had just, in a way, asked him out on a date. "I...why would you ask me that?"

Steve flushed bright red. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I really hope this doesn't ruin our friendship."

"No, you misunderstand me. I'm not offended I just don't see why you find me...attractive," Coulson said.

"Oh. Well. You're nice and loyal. And your sense of humor, while somewhat odd, is nice. I'd like to get to know you more and see if...maybe it goes somewhere." Steve managed somehow to flush even more than before.

"Sorry, this is all just surprising. Everyone else is angry with me, but you ask me on a date," Coulson said. "But yes. I'd love to."

"Good. That's good. Could you maybe pick the place? I don't know many places around here, just a few coffee shops," Steve said. "And I'm sorry this is a bit sudden."

"Oh no. It's fine. I know a place down on 47th. It's been there for a long time," Coulson said. "You might know it. Jerry's? It's the first place that came to mind."

His chest warmed when Steve smiled, eyes bright. "That place is still around?"

"Yeah. We can...go now if you want?"

"Sure! We can take my motorcycle, if you're okay with that," Steve said.

"That'd be great."

-.-

"I can't believe you said that," Peter said.

"What?" Clint stared at Peter, confused. They were lying in bed, had been all morning given that no aliens had invaded and no super villains felt like attempting world domination. Clint had told him what he and Coulson had talked about, but he wasn't exactly expecting Peter not to take his side.

Peter shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one arm. "No seriously, you can't keep guilting him like that. He apologized. You don't have to forgive him right away, but you can't make him feel worse. You have to work together. And you love him. No sense in making him feel like crap when he's still recovering."

Clint's gut reaction was to be angry and lash out for Peter not understanding his feelings, but he clamped down on it and really thought about what Peter said instead of letting the first smart-ass remark out of his mouth. "I guess...I wasn't entirely fair to him. But I was still right. He really does put his job first and-"

"Oh my god, do you not listen to what he says?" Peter asked. He rolled out of bed, trying to comb his hair into order with his fingers. "He said he didn't want to make you have hope just to take it away again. He didn't even know if he was going to live! He was trying to do what was best because he cares about you."

"That still doesn't mean he's right! He can't go around thinking he knows what's best for everyone," Clint said.

Peter shook his head. "He made the wrong choice, sure, but you can't keep lording it over him like that. It's not fair."

Peter was right. He _had_ been rude and unfair. Sure, he'd talked to Coulson. He wanted to spend time with him and take advantage of their second chance like Aunt May had told him to, but he'd let his hurt and anger get in the way.

"I guess I should apologize," Clint said, running a hand through his blond hair.

"Uh yeah. Definitely," Peter said. "Hey JARVIS, where's Coulson?"  
"Agent Coulson and Captain Rogers departed on their date twenty minutes ago," JARVIS reported.

Clint shot up, eyes widening. "Wait what?"

"I knew it!" Peter grinned at him, even as Clint continued to stare at him in confusion. "I just kinda...had this feeling this was going to happen. It's great, right?"  
"Yeah. I...didn't expect him to move on that fast. The guy's barely been here a week," Clint said, trying to ignore the add twinge in his ches.t

Peter seemed to read it all over his face though and sat down on the edge of the bed, concern in his eyes. "Clint?"

"Sorry. I'm glad it's just...guess it all feels fast," Clint said. He gave Peter a partly enthusiastic smile. "Coulson's always had a bit of an obsession with Cap. And hey, maybe Steve's just perfect enough for Coulson to put him before his work."

"Yeah, maybe." Peter waggled his eyebrows. "Wanna follow them?"

Clint grinned. "Oh yeah."

-.-

Coulson pushed his lunch basket back. He'd only managed to put half of his burger away, his appetite still not quite what it used to be. Steve on the other hand, had managed to eat two full meals on his own, though he refrained from a third.

"So does this...is this a good first date?" Steve asked, eyes glancing down at Phil's half eaten meal.

"Oh yes. I just don't eat much in one sitting anymore. Must be because I'm part machine," Phil said, only half joking.

"That must be a bit odd," Steve said. "Pardon me for saying so. I'm still wrapping my mind around this sort of thing. It's weird to think you're being kept alive by a mechanical heart. It's different than Tony."

"Bad weird? Bad different?" Phil asked, unable to keep the worried note out of his voice. Steve was the first man to really make Phil worry about what he thought. After all, Steve was the first person he had a clean slate with in a long while.

Steve smiled at him. "Just different. I don't mind. I'm just glad you're alive and I got this chance."

"Ah, good. How are you adjusting?" Phil asked. "You've had a few months..."

"Well," Steve said. "Better than I ever thought I would. Tony been a great help even if we don't get a long all the time. I miss the simplicity of the past though."

"This time is just as simple. People indulge in the same things, though perhaps to a greater degree," Phil said. "Maybe you'll see it that way in time. I'm sorry if that came off patronizing. I know you can take care of yourself."

"Thanks. Not many people allow me that. I'm not as naïve as people think," Steve said.

"Of course not," Phil said. "You went to war. Only an idiot would assume you were naïve, it's just technology can be a bit overwhelming. I admire your ability to keep going. A weaker man would've stopped by now."

Steve blushed and looked down. "That's high praise coming from a man like you."

"Like me?"

"Well, you're so loyal, you don't hesitate to stand up to a demi-god," Steve said.

"Loyalty isn't always a good thing," Phil said, Clint's words from before echoing in his ears.

"As long as you have loyalty for a good cause," Steve said. His gaze flicked up to Coulson's. "Not to a person or a group, but something in yourself. Dr. Erskine said he saw that in me, and I see it in you. It's admirable."

"You're wrong. I've always put my job first."

"That's not true. If you did, you and Clint never would've been together. I know SHIELD has strict rules about that."

"It was more complicated than that," Phil said.

Steve smiled. "You're just proving my point, Phil. You know when to remain loyal to yourself and your values above your job."

"I messed up though. I put my job before the emotions of all of you," Phil said. He couldn't grasp, couldn't _accept_ Steve's admiration of him when he didn't deserve it.

"I think it's the other way around. You put us ahead of everything. You didn't want to cause us more pain."

"I was still wrong."

"We're all human. We make mistakes. Doesn't make you any less amazing in my book. I've made a lot of mistakes."

"The rational part of me says of course you did but I still find it hard to believe," Phil said. "Thank you for that though. I think I needed to hear it. Sorry if I ruined the date."

"No, you didn't. I said I wanted to get to know you and that's what I'm doing," Steve said.

Phil reached for his water, but a quick pain in his chest made him flinch and knock the glass over the table. Before either of them could react, webbing shot out from behind them and caught the glass in a spun web. Phil's eyes narrowed and he turned around just in time to see Clint and Peter duck behind a booth.

"It seems we have some stalkers," Phil said, turning back towards Steve.

"I guess we do. We can...leave-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Peter popped up beside their table. "Didn't mean to ruin your date. Just wanted to make sure it went well because I really want this to work out for you two."

"Yeah, what he said," Clint said, coming up to stand beside Peter. "Coulson we should talk at some point but that's not what I'm here for. Steve, have him home before midnight, be responsible, use pro-"

"Clint. Peter. Go," Phil ordered, fixing them both with a hard glare.

Their eyes widened and then they bailed. Phil let out a wary sigh and looked up at Steve.

"That was impressive," Steve said. "They only listen to me in a fight. It's...nice that they care though."

"I suppose." Phil picked his cup up and set it back on the table.

"So you and Clint..." Steve looked unsure of himself.

"It's in the past. We have no plans to attempt what we once had," Phil said. He offered Steve a small smile. "No need to feel threatened. Shall we finish our date?"

Steve relaxed and smiled back. "Yes, of course."

-.-

Natasha tugged her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She needed to cut it again. She liked it long, sure, but it wasn't practical.

"I'm impressed. You've managed to carry more weapons than I do," Wade said.

They stood in front of the table in their hotel room. Spread out a top it was every weapon she carried on her, ready to be cleaned, sharpened, and in case of her pistols, put back together. Wade actually seemed moderately impressed, like he wasn't just saying it for her benefit. It was refreshing, having someone say what they meant because they had absolutely no reason not to.

"So what will I need?" she asked, picking up the nearest knife and setting it against her small whetstone.

"All of it. Simple mark, sure, but things around me usually go horribly wrong," Wade said.

Natasha turned and watched, still sharpening her knife, as Wade unclipped his katanas and set them against the wall before stretching out on his bed.

"Do you actually sleep?" she asked.

"Of course! Sometimes. When it strikes my mood," Wade said. "Voices can be a bit annoying you know."

"So what are you, schizophrenic?" She set the knife aside and picked up another.

"Psh, labels are for people who aren't me. Think what you want," Wade said. "What made you change your mind and come with me?"

"You gonna ask if we can braid each other's hair next?"

"I have no hair but white box swears we're good at braiding hair if you want," Wade said, sitting back up.

An unexpected bout of laughter burst passed her lips. "Oh my God, you're for real, aren't you? I keep thinking you've got some ulterior motive but you really don't. You're just crazy and lonely, and that...is just what I need."

Wade tilted his head to the side, looking similar to a puppy since Natasha couldn't read his expression. "You need a crazy, lonely person? That's the first time anyone's told me that. At least the first time without anyone wanting to do something unspeakable to me." Wade sighed, looking to the right of Natasha's head. "Yes, unspeakable can mean a variety of things but they're all still awful."

"How good are you at cutting hair?" Natasha turned back to her weapons, wondering what was possessing her to ask something so stupid and actually consider it as an option.

"You shouldn't let me do that. Me that close to your neck with pointy objects is just a bad idea."

Natasha grabbed a knife and turned back before hopping onto the bed in front of him. "Cut it up to my chin. You can braid what's left. Clear?"

Wade stared at her, and she had the distinct impression he was glancing back and forth between her and the knife. "I thought I was the crazy one."

"Maybe we're both crazy. Take the damn knife," Natasha said.

After a moment of hesitation, he did, oddly silent. Natasha turned around, back rim rod straight. It was impossible not to be tense, but she was determined to follow through even if she couldn't figure out _why._ She managed not to flinch when Wade worked out her ponytail and then placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it once, then slid glove covered fingers through her hair, separating it out before bringing the knife up and cutting. Wade remained silent throughout, giving Natasha time to think.

As far as dangerous decisions went, this was up there. Not just letting Wade near her with a knife, but running off with him in the first place. His usual chattering annoyed her to no end, but in the last few days, she had gotten to see the lonely man beneath the voices. They were more alike than she originally thought.

And wasn't that terrifying?

"Why do you like me Wade?" Natasha asked.

Wade set the knife on the bed and began to braid a small portion of her hair. "You are closer to realizing what a joke life is than the others. It's refreshing. Everyone else actually thinks they matter when really, _none_ of this is real."

"How isn't this real?" Natasha asked. Wade's fingers in her hair was relaxing, which on some level she supposed she should be alarmed by, but he had managed to successfully erase her worry.

"Eh, you don't want to know. You wouldn't believe me, and it's not necessary for your survival or anything," Wade said. "You've got a good handle on it without knowing."

"But Clint isn't like me. Why do you like him? Why did you save him?"

"Birdy is nice. And I was sick of that contract anyways. Oh, and he's fun to mess with," Wade said. "Like you. You're easy to piss off."

"Normally I'm not. You just get under my skin," Natasha said. "Congratulations. You're one of five people who can."

"Oh, do I get a reward?" Wade asked, sounding like an overgrown child.

"My knife in your face." For once, Natasha didn't actually mean it.

She hopped off the bed and stepped over to the mirror. Wade had cut her hair up to her chin and had worked in small, thin braids throughout. It was prettier than she thought it would be. Pretty and practical. That happened so rarely.

"Thank you. It's nice," she said.

"So no knife to the face?" Wade asked.

She smiled at him through the mirror. "Not tonight at least."

She turned back to cleaning her weapons with a much lighter heart.

-.-

"It's a bit odd, taking you here when I live in the same building," Steve said.

Phil shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Clint and I didn't have a normal relationship."

They were both hovering in the doorway between the elevator and the door to Phil's flat, neither sure of what happened next. Phil didn't want to scare Steve off, but Steve didn't seem to know what was allowed.

"We make quite a pair," Phil said with a nervous laugh.

"Am I allowed to kiss you?" Steve asked, blurting the words out.

Phil stared at him. "Ah...yes. First dates allow that I'm sure. Like I said, I'm not quite sure how-"

Steve's hands came down to hold his shoulders before tugging Phil forward. The kiss was chaste, gentle, exactly what he'd expect from someone like Steve and yet it still managed to make Phil feel as though every nerve had caught fire.

"Was that okay?" Steve asked after he pulled back.

"Yes. Entirely," Phil said, unable to stop his goofy smile. "Do you want to...come in?"

"And do what?" Steve asked.

"Just a movie. Nothing that would make you uncomfortable," Phil said.

Steve was still blushing, which didn't help the butterflies fluttering in Phil's stomach. "Sure. All I do on my own is go back to the gym or draw."

Phil opened his door. "You draw?"

"I'm not that great, but yeah, I do," Steve said, following him inside.

Phil rubbed at his chest and then sat down on the couch in his living room. "Sorry, you'll have to get yourself something to drink if you're thirsty. My body is feeling a little worn."

Steve sat down beside him. "No worries. Truly."

"You know this movie thing sounded like a great idea until I sat down. I'm a bit more exhausted than I thought," Phil said.

"That's fine. We can just watch television or something and hang out," Steve said. "I don't mind your company."

"Alright. If you don't mind."

Phil was able to stay awake for another half hour but he fell asleep between one breath and the next. When he woke up, Steve was gone, but there was a blanket pulled over his shoulders and a small note on that table.

_Sleep well. I hope we can do this again soon_

_ -Steve_


	4. Chapter 4

**Yo! Next chapter is here. This one is heavily censored so if you're here for the good stuff head on over to my Ao3 account. I have the same username over there so go ahead and search my username. If you can't find it, PM me and I'll give you a link. The next chapter will be up soon I hope. I don't own Marvel in any way. **

"Well, fancy seeing you here," Clint said.

Phil raised an eyebrow and took a seat at the counter beside Clint with his breakfast of toast and an orange. "Yes, it's almost like we live in the same building."

Clint gave a cheeky grin in response and bit into his apple. "So how'd that date go?"

"Fine. You said you wished to speak with me about something. We should probably do that before I get to official business," Phil said.

"Oh boy, mission time," Clint said. He tossed the apple core in the trash bin before facing Phil head on. "I wanted to apologize for what I said before. You don't need me adding on guilt you don't deserve."

Phil blinked. "Well this is a bit surprising, but thank you. I appreciate it."  
"So, now that I got that of my chest. Business. Please, before I get embarrassed," Clint said.

"Right of course." Phil smiled down at his plate before taking a few bites of his toast. He knew how hard it was for Clint to truly speak about his feelings and apologize for being wrong. To be wrong for Clint was to be vulnerable after all. "We're sending you to scope out a base we believe one of Hydra's top officers is visiting. If he's there, take him out. There's a folder on who it is. I'd rather not be specific when Stark is undoubtedly listening in."

Clint smirked. "Good call. You have a doctor's visit today, don't you?"  
"Thanks for the reminder," Phil said, voice dry as he began to peel the orange. "I was going to try and enjoy my day by putting it out of my mind but thanks for that."

Clint nudged him on the side on his way out of the room. "Hey you decided to be my handler again. That means I'm back to making your life difficult."

Phil watched him leave before looking back at his food. It was nice to hear Clint joking, to hear the relaxed note in the archer's voice. It could only mean they were on the right track, a real one and not something wrong covered up and masked by the relationship they'd once had. In all of the time they had been in their complicated mess of a relationship, Clint had never admitted he was wrong. They had glossed over their problems with promises of love and simple sex. Now it was better. Now they were admitting their problems. It was progress, and Phil didn't think they would've accomplished it if it weren't for their current circumstances.

Phil had just placed his dishes in the dishwasher when the elevator dinged and opened. Steve emerged, hair dripping with sweat and a towel around his neck with a bright smile on his face when he saw Phil.

"Hey. Sorry if I smell," Steve said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a water bottle. "Did you sleep well?"  
"Yes, thank you. I'm glad you still enjoyed our date," Phil said.

"How could I not? You're amazing."

"How are you real? I am asking an honest question. I can't possibly deserve this kindness," Phil said.

"I just treat people the way they deserve," Steve said. "So don't say things like that. "I like you fine the way you are."

Steve set the water bottle aside and leaned forward to press their lips together in a quick kiss, though he was careful not to get too close. He grabbed the water bottle after pulling back and took a deep drink.

"Sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I really need a shower,' Steve said with a small wince. "Can we get together later?"

"I have a meeting with my doctor at 4:00. After that?"

"Okay. I'll make an early dinner at your place," Steve said with a smile.

"That sounds great, thank you."

-.-

Natasha ducked behind a metal filing cabinet, reloading her pistol before glaring across the hall at Wade.

"So nowhere in your research did you find out this guy is guarded by his own private army?" she shouted over the gunfire.

"Research? I didn't research this guy," Wade said. He pulled a grenade off his belt and yanked out the pin. "Might wanna duck."

"Are you insane?"

"It's been said."

Wade hurled the explosive down the hall and the whole building seemed to rock when it exploded. Natasha glowered at him, but when the smoke cleared and she peeked over the top of the cabinet, she was greeted by the sight of a pile of dead, and in some cases dismembered, bodies.

"That wasn't your normal type of explosive was it?" she asked, standing up completely.

"Of course not, what do you take me for?" Wade asked.

The merc vaulted over his barricade of cabinets and chairs before pulling out his pistols. Natasha took a deep breath and followed suit. Despite how problematic Wade's plan was, given that he didn't have one, she was actually enjoying herself. The lack of structure was liberating and terrifying. Sure, she had no back up, no team to pull her out, no partner whose judgment she could trust but for the first time in a long while, she was entirely free.

"Looks like they focused their forces here," Natasha said as they moved passed the bodies and down the hall. "Amateurs. Unless the rest of their force is elsewhere. I can't imagine him having much more than this."

"You worry too much." Wade came to a stop at an elevator and pressed the up button.

It opened immediately to five men with semi-automatics. Natasha got one of them in the neck before she was ducking back out of the way and grabbing hold of a nearby windowsill and shoving one of the ceiling tiles away. By the time the men piled out of the elevator, she had moved over to one of the vents in the ceiling, shooting down at them and picking them off one by one as they riddled Wade full of holes. Once they were taken care of, she jumped back out. There was a substantial pool of blood beneath Wade but he didn't seem too fazed.

"Good thinking, pretty," Wade said, stepping into the elevator.

Natasha nudged one of the dead bodies off into the corner as Wade hit the button for the top floor. "I am not digging out those bullets."

"No need," Wade said.

The elevator dinged and reopened into a spacious office. Their mark was face down on his desk, blood dripping off the edge with a bullet through his head. Natasha checked their corners quick and then went to check the body over as Wade went to look out one of the windows.

"Well, he's very much dead," Natasha said, lowering her gun as she approached Wade. "What's out there?"

"Oh we're surrounded by police," Wade said, letting the blinds flick back closed. "One of those guards must've called."

"Oh, great, this just keeps getting better and better doesn't it?" Nat tried not to sound too angry as she shoved her gun back in its holster. "So what's our plan? We're surrounded by cops and someone got to our mark first and I wouldn't be surprised if he's watching us right now."

"You really need to stop worrying so much," Wade said. "We can get out just fine. I can distract them and then you can use your super agent powers to sneak out on your own."

"That's a stupid plan," Natasha said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the elevator. She jammed her thumb against the button for the basement. "I don't care if you don't die. Throwing yourself in harms way for me is stupid and a bit insulting. We can get out of this just fine, with or without a killer in the building."

"Look, whoever killed our mark is already gone, and besides, we got paid ahead of time. Who cares how he died as long as he's dead?" Wade asked.

"I don't like unanswered questions," Natasha said.

"That's one of the perks of the job. Loose ends, unanswered questions? Not a problem," Wade said. "You cut your losses, which mind you there aren't any, and move on."

"Well that's a good way to get yourself killed," Natasha said.

The elevator doors opened to the basement just as the power shut off, a sign that the police were getting ready to make their move. Natasha cursed under her breath before grabbing a small flashlight and flicking it on, glancing over to see Wade doing the same.

"Ours is bigger," Wade said.

Natasha smacked the back of his head. "I'm not in the mood for your 12-year-old maturity level."

"You're no fun. Stop worrying."

They continued down the hall, checking any door they came across only to find that they were locked. Natasha could hear a phone ringing above them, undoubtedly the police wanting to see if there was a hostage situation.

"We've got _maybe_ ten minutes before they storm the place. Do you have any brilliant way out?" Natasha asked.

"We can always kill them."

"We're not killing police officers. They're just doing their jobs," Natasha said.

At the next door they reached, she put her flashlight in her mouth and dropped to her knees. Keeping the light fixed on the handle, she pulled out her lock picks and set to work. It took her only a few minutes, and once they ducked inside, they checked over the room.

"Great, a storage room. You've saved us!"

"Well I don't see you doing anything." Natasha climbed over some boxes and with some contortion managed to kick out an air vent before shining her light back on Wade. "So. Come with me or don't. Your choice."

Wade tapped his chin, looking off to the side. "I know she's playing it safe but we could at least _humor_ her."

"Wade Wilson, I do not have time to listen to you talk to yourself. I'm leaving. Follow me if you want."

Natasha crawled into the vent and headed away from the center of the building. If things went right, hopefully it would lead her to the outside of the building, which given the incline of the vent was entirely possible. Wade's irritated grumbling echoed down towards her and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. So what if he didn't die? She still didn't want to see him get riddled full of bullets _again_.

She rounded a corner and froze when her flashlight lighted on the barrel of a gun with a familiar face behind it.

"Mockingbird. I'm not your enemy," Natasha said.

Mockingbird smirked and clicked the safety on. "I was wondering who was causing all the commotion. Doesn't seem like your style."

"I've got a partner," Natasha said, shifting enough to reveal Wade.

The merc twiddled his fingers in a wave.

"Huh. That'd explain it. So I take it you aren't here on official SHIELD business?"

"Uh, no," Natasha said. "But I take it you killed our mark."

"Yeah, that was me."

"I guess you didn't hear then?" Natasha asked.

"Hear what?" Mockingbird asked.

"Can we wait on the chitchat until we're out of the building?" Wade asked. "I'm a bit cramped."

Mockingbird snorted and turned around to lead the way out. Natasha wasn't exactly on the best terms with the other agent, but it helped to know she had someone else that was actually reliable in the field alongside her.

When they reached the end of the vent, they were indeed along the back wall of the building. Mockingbird kicked the vent off and then pulled herself forward, still crouching.

"There's a manhole ten feet in front of us," Mockingbird said. "There's some police coverage but not much. Thank you for that by the way."

"Once again, blame my partner," Natasha said.

"You SHIELD agents are all the same," Wade said. "Do you guys _ever_ enjoy yourselves? Serious question, really."

"I know this comes as a surprise, but we actually die," Natasha said, unable to keep the irritated note out of her voice. "Let's just do this already."

"What are bullets to us anyways?" Mockingbird asked with a confident smile.

Natasha watched her dart across the ground, a few bullets hitting the ground behind her before she flipped the cover off the manhole and disappeared beneath it. She gave Wade a hard look but he just twiddled his fingers at her in a mocking wave.

"See you in a few!" he said.

Natasha turned away and dove out into the open.

-.-

Phil shut the door behind the doctor and then sat down heavily on the couch. He always dreaded the appointments, waiting for the day they informed the plastic heart wasn't enough and he was going to die. He knew rationally it was a stupid thing to worry about. Minus Stark and Viktor von Doom, SHIELD had the best technology. Rationality didn't help his anxiety level though.

"Captain Rogers is waiting outside sir. Shall I let him in?"

"What? Uh, yes, yes, sorry," Phil said.

The door opened to reveal Steve dressed in khaki slacks and a navy blue button down shirt with a bouquet of flowers.

"I know you're not a dame but I wasn't sure what else to get," Steve said.

"No it's perfect. The apartment needs a personal touch to it," Phil said. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm finding the thought of getting up a bit stressful."

Steve hurried over, setting the flowers on the coffee table. "Is something causing you pain?"

"Just a...mild anxiety attack I think. I'll be fine in a moment, I'm sure," Phil said, despite the way his voice was beginning to shake as bad as his hands.

"Bucky got these after...well _you_ know. Do you want me to back away or do you need me closer?" Steve asked, his voice perfectly calm as he met Phil's eyes.

Phil took in a few short, gasping breaths. "If you could stay back please."

"Okay." Steve didn't look at all offended, only crouching down so he was no longer towering over the other. "You gotta calm your breathing down. That's not good for your heart."

Phil winced at the irrational flash of panic the words sent through him. "Not helping."

"Sorry. Look at me Phil, just focus on my eyes and tell me what you're thinking."

"You have gorgeous eyes, like the blue on America's flag."

"I wish I could say I haven't heard that one before."

Phil let out a short, nervous laugh, a bit of the tension in his chest loosening. "Does this make me better or worse?"

"Cheesy lines from you are just endearing," Steve said with a gentle smile. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Staring into your eyes helps. They're a bit bottomless."

"Now that _is_ a new one," Steve said.

"Points for originality. I feel better. Breathing is normal. No pain."

Steve chuckled. "No need to read off your symptoms. Can I hold you now?"

Phil nodded. "Yes, that would be appreciated. I'm not quite sure what came over me."

Steve climbed up onto the couch beside him. "It's fine. Bucky was shell-shocked for a while. I don't need an explanation if you don't want to give one. I understand just fine."

"You know they call it PTSD now," Phil said. It was nice being able to relax and slump against Steve's firm chest. He wasn't so comfortable letting his guard down but it was _Steve_.

"I hear it's properly treated now too," Steve said. "Between all of us, the Howling Commandos were able to hide his condition. Bucky wanted to stay and we couldn't let him get shot for treason either."

"Then you'll understand if I ask you to keep what just happened between us," Phil said. "I like my job."

"As far as I'm concerned, and pardon me for saying this, I don't have to tell SHIELD anything any more," Steve said. "Especially since what happens between us is a personal matter."

"I don't deserve you."

"You have to stop saying that," Steve said, thumb rubbing along Phil's shoulder. "And before you even _think_ it, no this most certainly did not ruin our date."

Phil muffled his groan against Steve's chest. "One day we will have a totally normal date I swear."

"I don't mind this," Steve said. "Dates can get in the way of the actual people sometimes. So did your doctor say anything was wrong?"

"No, I just worry that one day there will be. I still remember the feeling of dying, and doctor visits just force me to think of how one day I'll feel it again," Phil said. Steve's arm tightened around him, an offer of security that coaxed Phil into saying more. "It's terrifying."

"I know," Steve said. He pressed his lips to Phil's temple. "Believe me, I know. I've been there."

Phil closed his eyes, a sigh blowing out from between his lips. "That is comforting to hear. To know I'm not alone in my fear. You aren't supposed to be afraid as a handler. You keep it together when your agent can't."

"Sounds...stressful. In the Howling Commandos, that was _my_ job."

"We are quite similar, aren't we?" Phil mused, pushing himself upright.

"Yeah. It's nice. I've spent a long time feeling alone since I...woke up," Steve said. "But I guess we can chase that loneliness away together, can't we?"

"I'm waiting for the day you _don't_ say something perfect," Phil said, his smile teasing. "It will probably happen as soon as we actually have a normal date."

Steve flushed. "I think you're putting too much faith in my abilities."

"No, I don't think so." Phil got to his feet and grabbed the flowers off the table. "I'll put these in water. We can make dinner now."

Steve stood up and wrapped his arms around Phil in a firm embrace. "Okay."

Cooking with Steve was surprisingly fun. His relationship with Clint had been mired in an unhealthy dynamic and so even their down time wasn't exactly fun. With Steve, things were different. Their troubles, their darker, worrisome thoughts weren't at the forefront, but they weren't being ignored either. Phil hadn't quite realized how awful his relationship with Clint had been, so unbalanced, until he had something to compare it to.

"So who's recipe was this?" Phil asked as Steve pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

"My mother's," Steve said. "I kept all her recipes after she passed, though I couldn't always afford the ingredients on my own. We're lucky I have a good memory though. I'm not quite sure where they ended up."

"We returned all of your personal affects," Phil said. "If it wasn't there, I'm not sure where they'd be. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I learned not to place too high of a value in things during the war," Steve said.

The food was delicious, which Phil supposed it just figured Steve would be good at cooking too. It wasn't fair, really, especially when the man was so humble. Steve insisted he keep the leftovers, which Phil definitely was not going to complain about. Living on his own, he had taken most of his meals either in the SHIELD cafeteria, or microwavable food in his apartment.

"Maybe all I need to truly recover is good food," Phil said as they returned to the couch in front of the television.

Steve wrapped a firm arm around his shoulders and Phil gratefully fell into it. He was passed his anxiety for now, but it still helped to still have Steve close, a protecting presence. It wasn't like he could die when Captain Freaking America was holding onto him.

"I wanted to say thank you by the way," Steve said.

Phil pulled back, confused. "Why? I haven't done much of anything. In fact you've just done things for me all day."

Steve blushed and then ducked his head to press their forehead together. "I mean just for treating me like a human. I...sometimes don't feel like that around the others. I know you and I had a bit of a weird start but...I feel like I don't have to worry about messing up in front of you. You seem to keep thinking I'm perfect no matter what."

"Of course I think you're perfect," Phil said. "Just because someone has flaws or messes up doesn't mean they've become less perfect."

"Perfection in the flaws?" Steve mused, lips crooking up.

"Exactly," Phil said.

-.-

Natasha rung out a few more droplets of water from her hair onto the towel spread out behind her on the bed. Bobbie sat on the other bed wrapped in a towel with another around her blonde hair.

"So. You're working with Wade Wilson. What kinda mission do they got you on?" Bobbie asked, folding one leg under herself and looking over at Natasha

"No mission," Natasha said, looking down at her lap. "I quit. I resigned from SHIELD."

"What? Are you crazy?" Bobbie asked. "What happened? Are you and Clint still okay?"

"We're fine," Natasha said. "But SHIELD has done something unforgivable to me. I can't stay with them."

Bobbie shook her head, staring at the opposite wall. "God that's still an awful choice Natasha. They're going to hunt you down eventually."

"Like they'll catch me," Natasha said. "Look Bobbie. I've had to leave deadly organizations before. SHIELD isn't any different."

"But we're you're friends. Well, sort of, but regardless of how we feel about each other, Clint's your lover or whatever the hell you two are," Bobbie said. "What if they send him after you, or me? Or someone else you care about? What then?"

"I've thought it all through, Bobbie," Natasha said. "I know the pros and cons and whatever I do next, I can't go back to SHIELD. I went to SHIELD to get away from secrets like the ones they were holding. They betrayed the trust I gave them."

"Must've been pretty bad," Bobbie said. "And I don't wanna know because I'm already going to have to put in my report that I met up with you. And I'll have to mention the man singing in the shower too."

"Yeah..." Natasha shook her head. "I'm not sure this was the wisest choice. Teaming up with Wade I mean. It was kind of a trial run but...things are a bit too out of control for me."

"You fought an army of aliens in the middle of New York City. How is this more out of control?" Bobbie asked with a short laugh.

"I knew what I was getting into then. For the most part at least," Natasha said. "So...I get that you have to put it in your report but maybe put in a good word for me?"

"I'll do what I can," Bobbie said. "But I'm just an agent."

"I know," Natasha said, flopping back on the bed. "I have to do what's right for me though."

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Bobbie said.

"Yeah. Me too."


	5. Chapter 5

**There's a huge chunk of this chapter that was censored so if you want the uncensored version, as always head over to my Ao3 account. If you can't find it, let me know. I have the same username there as I do here. Thanks for sticking around and reading this much! I really appreciate the support, you're all wonderful. I don't own Marvel.**

It had been three days since Clint had left on his mission, a week since Natasha had left, four days since her last vague text message saying she was okay and that Bobbie Morse sent her regards, and an hour since he returned to Stark Tower. The mission was complete, a lot easier than he thought it would be given that he was supposed to be taking out an important member of Hydra.

"You should be at medical," Coulson said as Clint stepped out of the elevator.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad."

They were in the common living area of the tower, Coulson somehow managing to have accosted him before he could escape to his room and take care of his injuries.

"I thought you said there were no problems," Coulson said.

"There weren't," Clint said.

"Your neck is burned."

"Not badly. Look, can I get my crap sorted before we do this? Besides, doing work when you're in civilian clothes feels weird," Clint said.

"I'm not going to change just to debrief you," Coulson said. "Hurry up. I'll be here whenever you're done."

Clint readjusted his bag, the tender skin of his neck pulling uncomfortably as he did so. The elevator ride to his floor was short, but when it stopped, the doors remained closed.

"JARVIS? Doors?"

"My apologies, Agent Barton. Miss Romanoff has requested I inform you that she is in your room to avoid startling you."

Clint couldn't help the stupid smile on his face. Nat always was careful with him after missions, understanding how he could still be a bit trigger happy afterwards. The doors opened then and he tossed his bag to the side before heading straight for his room. Natasha stood at the window, turning towards him when he opened the door.

"I see you're avoiding medical again," she said.

"I see you cut your hair," Clint said. "It's nice."

She stepped towards him and then hugged him, careful to avoid any injuries she couldn't see. "Wade did it."

Clint raised his eyebrows as he pulled away before backing up towards his bathroom so he could find his first aid kit. "You let him that close to you with a sharp object?"  
"I don't know. He grew on me a bit and I guess I _do_ trust him. I don't think I'll be working with him though. Free lancing was nice but not in such an unprepared way. He's crazier than Stark," Natasha said. She grabbed the kit from him and sat down on the bed, patting the space beside her. "So I'm stuck again. Kind of a waste of time really."

"Eh, not completely," Clint said, wincing as Nat applied the ointment on the light burn and began to bandage his neck. "You've got Wade on your side for good now. That's not a waste."

Natasha made a non-committal noise.

"Does Coulson know you're back?" Clint asked.

"No," she said. "I'm going to avoid him until I figure out a way to get immunity from SHIELD. No sense in putting him in a position where he has to make a tough call."

"Have you talked to Stark yet?" Clint asked. "You know he would help."

Natasha closed the kit. "Not yet. It's next on my list. I don't like going to him for help though. It's...embarrassing."

Clint snorted. "You're picking a bad time to be prideful. He's not that bad. He wouldn't treat this like a joke, especially if it's giving SHIELD a middle finger. It doesn't make you weak to ask for help, so there's no reason for it to be embarrassing."

"Maybe. You should get back to Coulson. I'll go find Stark," she said, getting to her feet.

Clint grabbed her hand before she could get away completely. "I'm glad you're back. Things are weird when you're not around."

"Thanks." She gave him the barest hint of a smile and left.

-.-

Debriefing with Clint in the living room of Stark Tower was a bit odd, and Phil found it to be disconcerting too. It blurred the line between personal and work life even more than it already was. It was exhausting. When he returned to his floor, Peter's Aunt May was waiting outside the main door, a plate of cookies in hand.

"Ah, can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm delivering housewarming cookies," she said with a bright and infectious smile. "A little late yes, but I'm sure you'll forgive me."

"Of course." Phil opened his door. "After you."

Aunt May headed straight for the kitchen table and set down the cookies before opening his fridge and locating the milk. Phil took a seat, watching with amusement as she found cups and poured them both a glass before sitting down across from him.

"Is that your super power then?" Phil asked. "Making yourself at home wherever you are?"

"No, my super power is making sure all the superheroes slow down and have some good homemade food every once in awhile," Aunt May said. "It forces people to really sit and think instead of reacting first."

"I would expect nothing less from a woman who raised Peter," Phil said. He grabbed a cookie and took a bite. "These are heavenly. But I have to ask. Is there any specific reason you're here?"  
"I wanted to talk. I talk with all the residents here. You're all basically Peter's second family after all," she said.

"Are you sure this isn't an interrogation?" Phil asked. He took a sip of milk and then grabbed another cookie.

"I brought cookies."

"The sign of a great interrogator," Phil said with a smile.

"How have you been? Things must be a little odd. I found this place a bit unsettling," she said, her own smile pleasant as she avoided answering.

"I've never had a home before, not since I joined SHIELD. This is...nice," he said. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about her open expression, the genuine concern in her eyes that made him _want_ to tell her his worries.

She was _good_.

"Yes, Peter considers this place home now. I can tell just looking at him. I admit I can't adjust as quickly as him but I certainly feel safer," Aunt May said. "I have to give them credit for blending their lives together so well. They fight together and protect the world, and yet they still managed to come home and be an odd mix matched family."

"It is impressive," Phil said.

"It works because at the end of the day, they're all equal," she said. "No one has power over anyone else, not really."

"No handlers you mean," Phil said. He wanted to be angry at her not so subtle hints that he wasn't fitting in, but she was right.

Aunt May sighed. "No sense in not being straight with you. Everyone here cares dearly for you but by being Clint's handler and conducting your work in your shared home, you're just setting yourselves up for disaster. It's why I never let Ben bring his work home with him."

"I get what you're saying. I do. It's a trail and error process," Phil said.

"It's not," Aunt May said. "It's very simple. Leave your work out of the conversation when you're here. If you don't, you'll force everyone to acknowledge that you're different than them. I brought the cookies so I wouldn't sound so harsh but I don't think it worked."

"Oh it helps," Phil said with a bit of a strained smile. "I'm a grown adult. I should be able to figure out my relationships just fine."

"Just because we're adults doesn't mean we know what we're doing," Aunt May said. "Just look at Tony Stark!"

"Alright, point made," Phil said. His smile was genuine this time. "Clint and I will have to set some boundaries I think."

"That would probably be wise. I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds," she said. "I just want what's best for all of you."

"You would be a great agent," Phil said. "You're good at getting people to open up, even when they aren't that interested in doing so." He frowned a bit, leaning back. "Then again, if you were left alone in a room with some of the bad guys we rounded up, I'd be a bit concerned for their safety."

Aunt May laughed. "You are a charmer, no matter what the others say about you being a robot."

"Don't let them know that. I worked hard for that rumor," Phil said. "Thank you. This...has helped. And the cookies are quite delicious."

"Anytime dear. You just swing on by whenever you need something. Tell Steve I say hello," she said, getting to her feet. "It's not hard to tell how much you two fancy each other. It will do you both good I think."

Phil felt his neck redden. "Thank you. I'll do that."

She gave him another smile before leaving and Phil shook his head, staring at the plate of cookies before him. Aunt May was certainly a gift to the Avengers. He knew Clint and Peter spent a lot of time with her, and was sure that the others did the same given how determined she seemed with making sure they got a good meal. It was probably thanks to her that they hadn't fallen apart completely.

He downed the rest of his milk and then pulled out his phone, bringing up Steve's number before sending a text message.

_Hey, I could use your advice. Dinner?_

-.-

Natasha tried the door for Tony's lab, not surprised to find that it was locked. Part of her wanted to seize the opportunity and run away again. The thought of asking Tony for help, putting herself at the mercy of a man who's trust she had violated and someone who she herself only recently began to trust made her chest tight. But at the end of the day, she didn't want to live a life on the run away from Clint and Peter and Steve.

"JARVIS, can you tell Tony I'm here?" she asked quietly.

Barely a second after the words left her mouth, the blaring rock music from the lab stopped and the doors slid open. Tony was standing over a hunk of metal, blowtorch in hand with the mask pushed up. He set the torch down and pulled off his dirty gloves, tossing them behind him as he approached her.

"I was hoping we could talk," Tony said. He sat on a stool and then kicked another towards her.

Natasha took a seat, surprised by the seriousness in Tony's eyes. "I was expecting more gloating to be honest."

"That hard to believe I've matured a bit? Almost dying in space does that to a person," Tony said. There was a thin veil of black humor in his voice, but Natasha didn't laugh.

"No, you're right, I'm sorry."

"That's not to say I still won't gloat. Just not about this. You're an Avenger. We're all Avengers. I made you a flat for a reason," Tony said. "You may think I'm a shitty team player, and I agree with you but I think I've done a good job."

Natasha offered a small smile. "None of us are good with teams but we've _all_ done a pretty good job I think."

"What I'm trying to say is I want you to stay and this conversation is getting painfully serious for me so can I just throw my offer out there already?" Tony asked.

"Sure let's hear it."

Tony spun on his stool to face the table, knocking aside some papers and then pulling out a slim folder and handing it over. "I've had this ready since you vanished. Don't think I didn't notice."

"JARVIS is biased towards you so I figured," Natasha said. She opened the folder and pulled out quite possibly the world's shortest contract. "This..."

"I'd hire you as my assistant. You aren't required to do anything but you're on my payroll. SHIELD can't touch you without dealing with me and my super scary legal team," Tony said. "There's a small note mentioning that if you break laws, Stark Industries can't be held accountable but that's the only downside."

"I'm not taking this salary," Natasha said. "This is already too much. I can't accept a $500,000 salary on top of it."

"Fine, I'll knock it down to $250,000. Final offer."

"Why?" Natasha set the contract aside. "Tony, I don't deserve this-"

"Whoa, what? Okay, not that this isn't news to you, but you've kind of saved the world numerous times. SHIELD fucked you over. You're more resilient and hardworking than me. Also, I treated you like crap when you actually _did_ work for me. I just want to give you a chance to do what you want. People can do amazing things when they're allowed a clean slate," Tony said. "So...at least think about it. Please."

"Tony Stark, are you _begging_?" Natasha asked.

"Can I add into the contract that you aren't allowed to mention that happened?" Tony asked.

"Hell no. But seriously, are you really sure you can trust me with something like this?" Natasha asked.

"No, not really," Tony said. "I'm really trusting Clint. He likes you and trusts you and I mean Pepper thinks you're someone we can trust. So. Really it's just because everyone else has vouched for you. I like you alright, it's just you know, paranoia issues."

"I'll take it. But only if you actually let me work for it," Natasha said. "I can't just take this for free."

"Fine. We'll think of something. I can always use someone to check up on possible leaks," Tony said. "Which reminds me, there's a clause in there about not saying anything about our products or business plans without my written permission."

Natasha picked the contract back up. "You managed to fit a lot into one page. I'm impressed."

"Get that back to me whenever. No hard feelings if you say no, because we'll still be on your side if SHIELD decides to come after you," Tony said. "No way Capsicle would stand for that."

"Thank you Tony. Really. I'm not used to having this much support," she said, hating the vulnerability in her voice.

"Me neither. Welcome to the club. Bruce and I were thinking of making jackets," Tony said.

Natasha shook her head. "You're an idiot. I'll...be down later."

Natasha left Tony to his work and headed back to her flat. It was weird. She was waiting for the moment when she realized the deal came with strings attached, but rationally she knew Tony wouldn't do that. He'd been screwed over too many times to do it to someone else. At least, that was the impression she got.

When she arrived at her flat, she headed for the kitchen counter, setting the contract on top of it before grabbing a pen. She stared down at the dotted line, pen hovering above it. For a brief week, she had been free of any master, worked with whomever she pleased. But that sort of freedom had been a prison in its own way; Wade was proof of that. She felt his loneliness in her time with him, his longing for a constant companion. She knew in a life of free-lancing, of constantly being on the run, she'd never get that. People like Bobbi would try to kill her, not sit on the bed and chat.

Here, she was starting to have a home. Dysfunctional, sure, but they worked. If they didn't, she doubted they would've saved as many people as they did. Sure, she was signing a piece of binding legal paper, but just to protect her. She still had her freedom to choose, to live her life the way she wanted, but she could keep the close ties she had built. Protect the ones she cared for. She'd never gotten that chance, not really, and in its own way it was a bit terrifying.

But that was okay. It had to be. For once, she felt like everything really would work out.

Natasha took a deep breath and signed her name.

-.-

Phil made Steve dinner that night, nothing impressive but Steve's smile of appreciation never failed to make his chest warm. He felt a little foolish given how Steve always made him feel like he was falling in love for the first time, but better. Steve carried the dishes over to the sink which Steve had just finished filling with dishwater, then leaned against the counter.

"So I noticed we haven't really talked about anything particularly important," Steve said. "And I know you wanted to so I figured it was okay to push it."

"Peter's aunt visited me this afternoon. She said a lot of things I've been needing to hear," Phil said, avoiding Steve's gaze in favor of looking down at the dishes he was cleaning.

"She does that. Smart lady," Steve said.

"Yes she is." Phil paused, dropping the cloth he was cleaning with in the sink before looking at Steve. "I think I should resign as Clint's handler. I'm not doing either of us any good this way."

Steve didn't look at all surprised, just thoughtful as he mulled it over. "That might be a good idea. It's hard to sort out your personal life when you two have that sort of dynamic."

"I thought I was being too rash," Phil said.

"Just talk it over with Clint," Steve said. "I doubt he'd take well to you going behind his back again."

Phil sighed and turned back to the dishes. "Amazing. You get what the problem we're having is before I do and you haven't even known him that long."

Steve wrapped an arm around his waist, stepping behind him and ducking down to rest his chin on Phil's shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. Aunt May understood most of my problems before I did. So did Peter. Sometimes it takes someone else to figure it out. There's nothing wrong with that."

"This all just feels so hopeless sometimes. I try to fix things and just make them worse. I'm better off on my own. I didn't have these problems before now," Phil said, shoving one of the dishes into the dish rack.

"I like you here just fine, flaws and all. Only robots don't make mistakes though if those Terminator movies are anything to go by I could be wrong."

Phil laughed, a full body laugh that took them both by surprise. Steve chuckled against his neck, tugging him even closer.

"I'm glad I can make you laugh. You don't do it nearly enough," Steve said, voice hushed.

"Sorry," Phil said. "I'll finish up here. Wait for me in the living room?"

"Sure, I'll put something on. I'm finally getting the hang of using Netflix," Steve said.

"We'll turn you into a 21st century boy yet," Phil teased.

Phil finished the dishes quickly, not wanting to be left alone with his own thoughts for long. He was sure a SHIELD psychologist would say he was using Steve as a method of avoiding his problems but Phil knew it was more complex than that. Being with Steve allowed him to finally have some amount of happiness while he muddled through his issues. It was harder to lose faith in himself when he had Steve around. He had to be moving towards a better place.

Steve had brought up the next thing in the queue Tony had set up for him and Phil cringed when he sat down beside Steve.

"Mean Girls? Are you sure?" he asked.

"Is it bad?" Steve asked.

"It's a bit of a cultural shock," Phil said. "Up to you though. There's a few good laughs I suppose."

"As long as you don't mind explaining all the references they make to me," Steve said, wrapping an arm around Phil's shoulders and tugging him close.

"Not a problem."

The movie ended up being funny, if only because of Steve's reaction to some of the things done and said, and his genuine confusion over the amount of partying and sex the main characters had. Phil was a bit surprised by the way Steve's face grew increasingly more serious as the film went on, and as the credits began to roll there was still a frown on his face.

Phil grabbed the remote and turned the television off before settling back into Steve's side. The man's thumb rubbed over Phil's shoulder and when Phil looked up at him, his frown still stretched his lips down.

"Something wrong?"

"Just...is that how this world is now? I know it was a comedy so things would be...exaggerated. But is this what things are like?" Steve asked.

"Well sexuality is regarded as a lot more loose now I suppose," Phil said.

"Not that. I don't mind that," Steve said, a flush creeping up his neck. "I mean the way they fight, how petty they are."

"People have always been petty. But people usually mature," Phil said. "Tony could use some work."

Steve ducked his head, laughing. "That's mean. He's not...what I took him for."

"Yeah, he has a habit of taking us all by surprise," Phil said. "The world has its flaws Steve, just like what you said about me. It doesn't mean it's hopeless. I'm sorry the movie put you in a bad mood."

"It didn't," Steve said, shifting so he could look at Phil straight on. "Just...I'm still learning about this new culture. It's not what I'm used to, you know. You are right though. Just because people have flaws doesn't mean they're bad. I know that. I guess I just got a little worried."

Phil moved to kiss him once on the lips. "Don't worry. You'll adjust."

"So where are you on...sexuality?" Steve asked, eyes glancing down. "Do you...prefer to move faster?"  
"I want to move as fast as you want to move," Phil said. "We go at both of our paces. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"Then if I asked if I could...stay the night?"

Phil felt his blood rush from his brain down and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Steve's. "I would not object, Steve. Even if we don't go all the way. Having you in my bed, even to sleep would be a joy."

"And you say I use too much flattery," Steve said. "I should...get some things. Then I guess we can see what happens?"

Phil nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Steve shifted Phil away and then got to his feet, giving the agent a tentative smile before heading for the elevator and his own flat. Phil fell back against the couch, a bit dazed as he thought over what was about to happen. He knew Steve wasn't as naïve and innocent as people thought. Their second date was proof enough of that. It was still a bit difficult to understand that Steve actually wanted him though.

Phil got to his feet and headed for the bedroom. Seconds ago, he had been eager at the prospect of finally having Steve in his bed, someone he had spent the last few weeks falling even more in love with, but now, the more he thought about it, the more he worried. Steve had already assured him that age didn't matter, that he found Phil attractive, but it was hard to believe.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the elevator in the other room dinged, and when he turned around, Steve was standing in the doorway, small duffle bag in hand. He set it aside, frowning when he saw Phil's expression.

"Is something wrong?" Steve asked, stepping up towards him and placing his broad hands on Phil's hips.

"Perhaps we're moving too fast," Phil said. He forced himself not to lean into Steve's embrace, not wanting to come off as too needy or too desperate. "You...don't know what you're getting into."

"This again?" Steve shook his head. "I know what I'm getting into Phil. I...I really am starting to love you. But if you don't want to do anything quite yet, that's okay too. I would love to just share a bed with you."

"Let's...just do that," Phil said.

Steve kissed him, once, soft and light. "I'm going to get changed. I'll go into the other room if you want."

"Please."

Phil waited until Steve was in the connecting bathroom before shedding his clothes and pulling on his sleep pants. He was halfway through putting on his shirt when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror, and he lowered his arms, shirt dropping to the ground beside him. The mark on his chest was ugly and twisted. He knew age would only twist it further, even if he was still in great shape.

"Phil?" Steve's voice was soft and Phil turned to face him, hurriedly throwing his shirt all the way on.

"Hi, sorry," Phil said. "Got a bit distracted.

"It's alright. Does it hurt?" Steve asked. He stepped up and reached a hand out, fingers running over where the scar was through the shirt.

"Not right now, no."

Steve smiled at him and then pressed their lips together, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against Phil's. Phil could feel his toes curling at the slow burn of pleasure Steve's kisses always ignited in his stomach, and he couldn't help but pull Steve closer. He wanted to be selfish and take all the pleasure and love he could from the man, but he still couldn't shake the thought that he was dragging Steve down.

"Let's go to sleep," Steve said after he pulled back. "And we can have a long talk in the morning."

Phil nodded. Climbing into bed with Steve was not as awkward as he feared it would be, and when Steve drew him close in his warm embrace, Phil felt a bit better.

He had nothing to be afraid of, really. Steve was still there. Steve liked sleeping beside him, liked touching him and kissing him because he _loved_ Phil. He didn't have to be afraid of scaring the man off. And if when they took the shower Phil made sure to return the favor and make Steve's knees weak with pleasure, it was just to ensure that Steve would feel just as loved as Phil did.

-.-

"Hey JARVIS, is Coulson in his flat?" Clint asked as he headed for the elevator.

"Yes, Agent Barton," JARVIS said. "He and Captain Rogers are in his living room."

"Cool, warn him I'm coming up," Clint said.

When he arrived, Steve was waiting to trade places with him. "Nice to see you came back safe, Clint."

"Nice to see you making yourself at home," Clint said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Steve flushed bright red and shoved him out of the elevator. "I'll talk with you later, Clint. I'll see you later Phil."

Phil was on the couch, shaking his head at Clint's words but there was a small smile on his lips. "Is there something I can help you with, Clint?"

"I just wanted you to know Natasha's back. She signed a contract as Stark's assistant so SHIELD can't touch her," Clint said, flopping onto the couch beside Phil. "And before you ask, she actually told me to come here and tell you because she still is kind of pissed at you."

"Hopefully she'll come to forgive me," Phil said, gaze shifting down.

"She will. We love you Phil. I forgave you. You know Nat's more stubborn," Clint said.

"I actually did want to talk to you about something in relation to our work," Phil said. "So thanks for coming to me, it saves me the trouble of having to hunt you down."

"That sounds ominous. What's wrong?" Clint asked, straightening up.

"I wanted to talk about our work relationship. I've found that...conducting our business where we live is a bit off-putting," Phil said as he looked up and met Clint's eyes. "I wanted to know how you felt about getting a new handler."

Clint blinked, expecting the words to come like a blow to the chest. In fact, a year or two ago, Clint was almost sure he'd crumble at the idea that Phil didn't want to work with him anymore, that Phil thought he wasn't good enough. Perhaps it was a testament to how far he'd come, how influential Peter had been that those weren't the first thoughts rushing through his head.

"Can I ask why?"

"I want to focus on...our friendship," Phil said. "We've never really been able to be friends without our job getting in the way. I think I'm starting to realize that you're more important to me than my job. I want to eliminate the crossover, but only if you're comfortable with it."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Uh...sure. Oddly, I don't feel that bothered by it. It's probably a good idea actually. But...you'll stay here right?"

"Of course. I quite like it here actually. More than I thought I would," Phil said.

"I'm sure Steve doesn't have anything to do with it does he?" Clint asked, unable to help another eyebrow waggle.

"Agent Barton, you are completely insufferable," Phil said, voice flat even though there was a smile threatening on his lips. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah," Clint said. "To be honest...that's all I've wanted from you for a long time."

Phil seemed to visibly relax at that. "Good. I was worried."

"Before long we'll have you on as an Avenger," Clint said. "Just you wait."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Phil said.

Clint got to his feet. "We're a very convincing group."

"I don't have any super powers," Phil said.

"Eh, I think you're selling yourself short," Clint said. He headed for the elevator, still facing Phil. "Also, Peter and I wanna go on a double date with you and Steve sometime soon. We're holding you to that."

"If you insist."

Clint got into the elevator and pressed the button for his flat, frowning thoughtfully as it headed up. It was hard to wrap his mind around how _right_ everything was starting to feel. Phil was living with him, was going to be his friend and not his handler. He had Peter and Natasha was back. Steve, Tony, and Bruce were already starting to feel more and more like family, and no one could question Aunt May's place.

The door opened and Clint headed into his flat, pausing a moment to watch Peter before the web-slinger noticed him. He wanted to remember the feeling, looking at Peter, remember the feeling of calm and contentment. He hadn't thought it was possible, but maybe it was okay to admit he'd been wrong.


End file.
